'Not magic, exactly,' Cupelix said soothingly. 'Merely a soporific vapor I have at my disposal. My dear fellow, you're so full of suspicions. This will help you. Sleep, and you will not remember this distressing conversation. Sleep, rest, dream. Sleep. Rest. Dream. Forget…'
Kitiara woke up. She had that vaguely troubled feeling that often went with a sudden return to consciousness, as though she'd been having a bad dream that she couldn't remember. She was lying on the deck of the dining room aboard the Cloudmaster. Below, the gnomes snored with the regularity of a water-driven mill. Kitiara combed through her short curls with her fingers. Her skin was clam my, and her hair damp with sweat.
Outside, the air was cool. She inhaled deeply, but her breath caught when she saw Sturm lying crumpled on the stone floor some yards away. Kitiara hurried down the ramp and ran to where he lay. Sturm breathed, strong and steady, soundly asleep.
Kitiara became aware that she was being watched. She whirled and saw Cupelix lying on his side along the lower ledge. His neck was bowed and he held his tail off the stone.
When he saw that she saw him, his tail came down and began to twitch from side to side in a very feline manner.
'When did this happen?' she asked, gesturing to Sturm.
'A short time ago. It's not a natural sleep,' said the dragon.
'He's been having visions since coming to Lunitari. We've all been affected by the magic here.'
'Truly? Visions of what?' Kitiara firmed her lips, unwilling to say. 'Come, my dear. Master Brightblade has no secrets from you, does he? A man always tells his lover of his dreams.'
'We are not lovers!'
'That sounds definite. I see I'm guilty of inferring too much. No matter. He has told you what he visualizes, hasn't he?'
She shrugged. 'Scenes of home, on Krynn. His father, mostly, whom he hasn't seen in twelve years.'
Cupelix let out a dragon-sized sigh that swirled dust in
Kitiara's face. 'Ah, Krynn! Where once thousands of my kind lived, to fly the broad skies in absolute freedom!'
'You've never been to Krynn?'
'Alas, never. My entire span of days has been spent with in the stone walls of this structure. Sad, isn't it?'
'Confining, at any rate.'
The tip of Cupelix's forked tongue flickered out. 'You're not afraid of me, are you?'
Kitiara lifted her chin. 'Should I be?'
'Most mortals would find me awesome.'
'When you've been around as much as I have, you get used to new things. That, and the fact that those who can't adjust quickly die.'
'You're a survivor,' said Cupelix.
'I do what I can.'
The black tongue protruded farther. 'How did you hurt yourself?' asked the dragon. Kitiara described the sled ride down the cliff. 'Ho, ho, I see! Very clever, those gnomes. I can heal your hurt.'
'Can you really?'
'It's simply done. You'll have to remove the wrapping.'
Why not? Kitiara thought. She fiddled with the knot that
Sturm had tied, but couldn't untie it with her left hand. She pulled her dagger and slit the linen with a few deft strokes.
'The mail, too,' said Cupelix.
She raised one eyebrow but put the point of the dagger under the rawhide lacing on her shoulder. The slightly rusty mail peeled back. Kitiara pulled her shirt off her injured shoulder, exposing a hideous purple-black bruise.
'Come closer,' said Cupelix. She stepped forward once, and was prepared to go farther, when the dragon swung his head down on his long, supple neck. The black tongue lanced out, just barely touching the bruised area. A shock jolted through Kitiara. Cupelix flicked his tongue again, and a harder shock rocked her back on her heels.
Cupelix reared back. 'Done,' he said.
Kitiara ran her hand over the site of the sprain. Not a trace of discoloration or soreness remained. She worked her right arm around in a wide circle and felt no twinges.
'Wonderful!' she exclaimed. 'Many thanks, dragon!'
'It was nothing. A simple healing spell,' he said modestly.
Kitiara stretched luxuriously. 'I feel like a new woman! I could best a hundred goblins in a fair fight!'
'I'm glad you are pleased,' said Cupelix. 'The time may soon come when you can repay the favor.'
She stopped in mid arm-swing. 'What is it you want?'
'Good company, some philosophy, and words with heat in them. Small things.'
'So talk to me. I have time to spare.'
'Ah, but the life of a mortal is a star falling from the heav ens. I have lived twenty-nine hundred years in this tower.
Can you converse for even half that time? A quarter? No, of course you can't. But there is a way to help me do these things to the end of my days.'
Kitiara folded her arms. 'And that is?'
'Free me from this obelisk. Set me loose, that I might fly to Krynn and live as a dragon should!'
'Men and elves would try to slay you.'
Cupelix said, 'It is a chance I would willingly take. There are great changes in the offing, deep stirrings in the tide of heaven. You have felt them yourself, haven't you? Even before you flew here, didn't you notice a new tide rising in the affairs of Krynn?'
Fragments of thought came back to Kitiara. Tirolan and his elves on the high seas, in direct defiance of their elders.
Robbers and wicked clerics plundering the countryside.
Strange bands of warriors — monstrous, inhuman warriors — crossing the land, intent on some mission. And a word muttered by the elvish seamen: Draconians.
'You see it, don't you?' asked Cupelix softly. 'Our time is coming again. A new age of dragons is about to begin.'
Chapter 21
As Kitiara pondered Cupelix's words, Wingover appeared, yawning, at the ship railing.
'G'morning! When's breckfiss?' he asked, thick-tongued.
'You ate not five hours ago,' Kitiara chided. She slipped her shirt and mail back on her shoulder.
Roperig and Fitter stood in the hull door. Roperig's hand was still firmly fixed to his apprentice's back. 'Hello, dragon!' he said heartily.
'Hello!' added Fitter.
'Did you sleep well, little friends?' asked Cupelix.
'Very well indeed, thank you. I — We thought we might go outside and take in a bit of fresh air,' said Roperig.
'Stay close,' Kitiara warned. 'Every time one of you gnomes does something on his own, he ends up putting us to no end of trouble.'
Roperig promised not to stray, and Fitter had no choice but to agree. They strolled to the door of the obelisk in hilar ious misstep. Small cyclones of wind swirled through the hollow interior of the obelisk. Kitiara realized that
